


maker only knows where we've to go

by dorker



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Job, Conjuration, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, I think these are tears, I'm breaking so many canon things, M/M, Magic, Multi, Non-Canon Relationship, Porn With Plot, Smut, Solas is known as the egg to everyone but him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-29 18:57:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3907039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorker/pseuds/dorker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>Thedas is still struggling against the fade and patience is running thin for Skyhold's inhabitants. The Inquisitor has asked that word be sent to foreign continents, asking for help in their time of great need. The dragon population is slowly rising, putting everything at risk. Word has come back from only one place. Maybe hope for Thedas can still be saved.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>*is updated at random due to awkward schedule | should be more frequent come summer*</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who is Our Savior?

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I don't own the titles of Inquisitor or Dragonborn. Nor the rest of the characters that show up, besides my own. I'd like to note this is unbeta'd, hardly plotted, and that I have not finished either game. I am incredibly far in Skyrim, and I've only just gotten to Skyhold in DA:I. I'd appreciate it if nothing was spoiled in the comments. Therefore, apologies if a character seems very ooc.
> 
> [ tumblr ref blog ](http://makerref.tumblr.com/)  
> please send a submission there if you want to add your inquisitor/dovahkiin somewhere  
> 

       The throne room was a highly decorated room; [Lars'](http://40.media.tumblr.com/bc5f4ae98465714920cc512c7c94e4b6/tumblr_no7o8zdXx81tl1fhgo1_1280.jpg) favourite room of Skyhold's nooks and crannies. With the quarters in one direction and the undercroft in the other, he was pleased with the setup. Skyhold was still under some construction, but the main rooms were cleared and cleaned and decorated under his careful eye. Damn if Dorian wasn't already rubbing off on him. Candles flickered their lights against the walls, dawn slowly approaching them. The Inquisitor relaxed in his throne, watching from the dark as servants quietly hustled about, bringing linens to one room and food to another. Nothing out of the ordinary. The brunette nodded his satisfactory to himself and leaned back, closing his eyes.  
      "Ser! Ser!"  
      "Yes, Scout Harding?" Lars replied, rubbing at his eye and forcing himself to become more alert.  
      "The foreigner, they're here!" She gasped out, leaning against the doorway to catch her breath.  
      "Have you notified anyone else of their arrival?"  
      "Just the guards. They're greeting them as we speak and bringing them up."  
      "Good. Bring a servant to me and then rest. Thank you, Harding."  
      "Yes, Ser," she nodded almost gratefully before running off to fetch one of the passing servants. It only took a few moments before one of the Inquisition's servants came up to the throne, ready to take an order.  
      "Can you please wake and inform Dorian, Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine that our foreigner is arriving? Use force if you have to," Lars chuckled at the last bit. The servant caught on and nodded, a smile creeping at her lips before she ran off to fetch the small party.

-

       "Brare, why must you have us woken at such an ungodly hour?" Dorian asked, hardly dressed compared to the Advisors. His hair was out of place and disheveled, a new appearance to the Inquisitor. It was rather befitting of the man. "More importantly, why have you woken me? I'm not a party of your 'war council' or whatever. Let me go back to bed."  
      "Be patient, Dorian. Our foreigner is coming, and is presumed to arrive around noon. I need you, of all people, to behave. Maker knows what trouble you get into," Josephine offered. Dorian glared back at her before catching Lars' smile. It seemed to put the mage in an agreeable mood for the moment, though Lars was sure it would break at some point.  
      "Dorian, you are free to go back to bed or about your business. Just try to behave?" Brare winked at Dorian, watching the man take his leave. God those hips could make any man drop to his knees. With Dorian out of the room, Lars returned his attention back to his advisors. "This man - or woman - has promised us help. What do we even know about them?"  
      "So far? Almost nothing. We aren't quite sure what 'Dovahkiin' means, but we're looking into it. Or rather, Solas is," Leliana piped in. She frowned at the Inquisitor's show of disgust of the elf's name. "He's helping, you can at least show appreciation for his effort."  
      "He looks like an egg, how am I supposed to take him seriously? You've heard him go on and on and on and on about the Fade, have you not? He can go on for hours and he still won't be anywhere close to finished," Lars groaned, sinking into his throne. Cullen let out a laugh, the first noise he'd made since being summoned.  
      "Best we keep our opinions to ourselves, Ser," suggested Josephine, though she was clearly struggling to keep ahold of her facade.  
      "Ugh, you three disgust me sometimes," Leliana groaned.  
      "Good!" Lars chuckled. "Cullen, please, we've gone over this several times. Just call me Brare or Lars. Either is fine, honestly."  
      "My apologies. Now, we were discussing the foreigner?"  
      "Ah, yes. We must treat our guest with respect. With Blackwall and Sera off on a mission, our troublemakers are mostly taken care of. Hopefully Iron Bull and Dorian can keep it in their pants for one night, at least. Best not to give off a bad impression on the first day." Lars let it sit, watching Josephine trying and failing miserably to pull herself together. "I will be putting their quarters near mine, solely to keep a decently close eye on them. Although I trust they will help us, the bloody handprint on the parchment they returned to us was rather unnerving."  
      "Finally you make some sense," Leliana huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.  
      "Oh hush," Cullen lightly scolded.  
      "We need to figure out how they can help us with one or both of our problems. I am not as much worried about the Mages as I am with the Fade and Dragons. Maybe this 'Dovahkiin' can help us," reminded Josephine.  
      "Unless they have the same Mark, then I'm not sure. The note read that they and their company only counted up to four. I expected help to possibly be an army or a strong force of some sort," Culled added, the humor gone from his voice.  
      "True. If it is only four people, then I guess our defenses won't have to be so high. Perhaps they have more power than we are aware of. A dinner with the Dovahkiin in private may do me some good. I'll chat with them and see if I can get any information," Lars said. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered just how dangerous this person could be.  
      "That may not be the wisest decision, Ser-uh, Brare. Surely someone should accompany you, for other reasons," Cullen murmured, stepping forward to offer himself.  
      "Thank you, Cullen, but that may not be necessary. If He proves to be somewhat decent tonight, then I will have Dorian join me. Or Vivienne. Maker knows she can talk her way into anything she puts her mind to," Lars declined. Surely enough, Cullen nodded his understanding.  
In the distance, the sound of Skyhold's gate being pulled open caught the attention of the Hall's occupants. They pulled themselves together and straightened their backs, preparing for the worst or the best.

-

       True to their word, the foreigner walked along the fortress' bridge with his companions mounted along side him. Each step brought them closer to the towering walls of Skyhold. The twisting hole in the sky unnerved his comrades, therefore unsettling the horses. He couldn't be bothered with it, he was taking in the scenery. On the top of the walls there were several guard posts, each holding several archers. Smart.  
      "Open the gates! Open the gates!" Someone yelled, and the courtyard seemed to buzz as people rushed to pull open the heavy iron gates and allow the group entry.  
They stayed silent and rode by, ignoring the tumult. Following a rough path that lead them to Skyhold's stairs,they ascending to the throne room. The foreigner raised his fist, and his fellow riders halted before dismounting. He watched as his companions led their mounts off to the side, waiting patiently.  
Dismounting, the foreigner's right hand joined his side and together they led their beastly mounts up and into the throne room.  
      "Dragonborn, I ask that you leave your mounts out-" Leliana's voice broke the odd silence, catching the foreigner's attention.  
      "Leliana, let them be. I'm intrigued," Lars commented, making a gentle shooing motion with his hand.  
      "Apologies, Herald."  
      "Welcome, Dovahkiin. We're pleased you have come. How was your trip?" The foreigner's trained eyes moved to a man standing to the side of the throne. He had slightly long locks of bright blonde hair. His jaw was firm and he held himself with courage and pride.  
      "It was peaceful enough. I am, though, surprised at your request of help. I came for dragons, not a hole in the sky," the foreigner commented. Beside him, his horse snorted and stomped the ground anxiously.  
      "We can assure you, our problems do not mainly rest of the fade. Traveling has become far more dangerous with the dragons running amuck," Lars commented. He pulled himself to his feet and stepped down to greet his new company. "Surely your trip was tiring. We welcome you to Skyhold."  
      "Thank you," the Dragonborn's first hand commented, giving a slight bow.  
      "I am [Malefic](http://41.media.tumblr.com/e39cdaa5cf06ced014ce6050e658c9e2/tumblr_no7o8zdXx81tl1fhgo2_1280.jpg), and this is Brynjolf. I can sense you have questions, so ask," the man replied smoothly.  
      "I am Lars Perrowth. Where are your companions? You said there were four of you," Lars asked.  
      "Outside, awaiting instruction," with that, Malefic nodded to Brynjolf and the man left to fetch the others, leaving his horse behind. Malefic took the reigns and held the mounts close.  
      "And your horses?" Josephine asked, walking down the hall with Leliana and Cullen in tow.  
      "Shadowmere and Arvak. Neither are very friendly, so I hope you'll regard their tempers. One was a gift and the other is just bones and magic. Years of running around the Soul Cairn can surely make one antsy."  
      "I suppose so. I have never seen such beautiful creatures. even with our own in the stables."  
      "Malefic," a soft voice called from behind the Dragonborn. A thin figure appeared, her hood draped casually over her face, hiding her.  
      "Karliah, Kharjo. This is the Herald of Andraste," Malefic said, letting his two companions show themselves. They pulled back their hoods, showing their faces openly. Brynjolf followed, and soon after Malefic did as well.  
      “We can have your mounts taken care of in the stables to your preferences, if you like,” Josephine offered.  
      “Shadowmere and the others will only need new hooves,” Brynjolf replied, the horse in turn bobbing his head.  
      “And of Arvak?” the ambassador turned her attention to the Dovahkiin.  
      “Ah, right,” Malefic murmured, letting go of the purple skeleton. The beast shook out his neck as if he still had a mane and stepped forward. Arvak’s bones clicked as they moved and brushed against each other. With each step, the horse’s legs started to glow a brighter purple, coarsing quickling over his body. Soon he was engulfed by purple flames, and with a small explosion, he was gone.  
      “Holy-” Josephine started.  
      “Fuck,” Cullen finished, a little awestruck from the show.  
      “Language!” Leliana smacked Cullen’s arm, a frown prominent on her face.  
      “Sorry, ma’am,” Cullen laughed, before breaking out in another fit.  
      “Maker, what am I going to do with you three? Josephine, would you please show them to their quarters? And Malefic, was it? I’d like to discuss a few things with you if you are fine with that. If not, Josephine can show you your quarters. I’d like to invite you to a private dinner with me tonight as well,” Lars straightened himself, ignoring his advisors.  
      “I can accompany you to answer your questions,” Malefic replied. He watched as Josephine braved a smile and lead the other foreigners away to show them their housing. She talked with her quill, stating where everything in Skyhold was from the rookery down to the tavern.  
      “Come, come,” Lars said, hands behind his back. He turned and started leading the way to the stairs. After a bit, his company was clearly becoming restless.  
      “You have questions, but you have not asked them.”  
      “Do you want me to ask?”  
      “I want you to be curious.”  
      “So you want me to ask you questions, then.”  
      “I suppose so, yes.”  
      “Tell me what your title means. No one has been able to figure it out. Thedas’ culture is much more different than yours,” Lars sighed, slowing down to walk alongside Malefic.  
      “Dovahkiin? Dragonborn, it translates to Dragonborn. It means that I can use the Voice. The Greybeards were of little help to me, but I suppose you do not know of them either. When I kill a dragon, I can ‘devour their immortal soul; refrain them from returning again’ and whatnot may have you. There is plenty lore over other Dragonborns like myself.”  
“Then maybe you can stop or at least lessen our dragon problem. Thedas is in great need of another hero; I cannot claim the title to myself. Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor, et cetera. It is a heavy title. I am grateful you responded to our letter, Malefic.”  
“Skyrim had it’s own problem of dragons. I managed to kill Alduin, but that only did so much for me. Soon Tamriel was facing the same problems.”  
      “I see.”  
      “I’m not sure you do. You hardly know me, and here we are talking as if it has only been years since we’ve spoken.”  
      “My apologies? Here, let me show you Skyhold from our balcony. I have many questions for you.”  
      “If you wish.”


	2. Are You Always This Demanding?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dinner goes well, and Malefic and his companions head   
> to the tavern. A certain mage takes up a bet and the night   
> goes quite well for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written gay porn in a long time, please forgive me.  
>  Please also forgive me for taking this down earlier. I noticed  
>  two errors and a friend noticed a huge one. 
> 
> Malefic is Damien.  
> Lars' nickname is Brare.

      “It was a lovely chat. Will I see you tonight for dinner?” Lars asked, his fingers looped on his belt.

      “Only if you can direct me there,” Malefic offered a light smile. Maybe staying in Skyhold wouldn’t be as bad as Karliah had assumed. A trip to the tavern would show him the true nature of the inquisition.

      “Meet me in the throne room in say an hour? I can show you the way from there.”

      “One hour it is, then.”

      “I’ll see you then,” Lars nodded to his company before leaving the other to look over Skyhold.

      “An hour...” Malefic’s light eyes scanned over the courtyard, taking in even more detail he’d had no access to while being distracted. The whole place looked sturdy, even though it was clearly still in repair.  “Let the Divines have mercy that this goes well,” he huffed before leaving to continue his exploration.

-

      “Malefic! Where have you been?” Brynjolf’s voice echoed through the hall, catching the Dragonborn off-guard. Leave it to the thieves to make a fool of an assassin.

      “Talking to our host. Is something the matter?” he asked, folding his hands behind his back with a blank facade.

      “Just talking? I’ve never known you to be so civil,” Kharjo cut in, Brynjolf snickering beside him.

      “Unlike some of us, cough cough Karliah cough, I can keep it in my pants for a night,” Malefic arched a brow, spotting the thief hiding in the shadows.

      “I merely have good taste,” she quipped.

      “Like the merc-for-hire you just had to fuck before we left? Or Serana while we were out trying to fucking save the Dawnguard?”

      “What? They’re hot. At least I’m quiet,” Karliah said, crossing her arms over her chest.

      “Sure, sure,” Malefic rolled his eyes and lead the way to the throne room. “How is Skyhold?”

      “I think Karliah has eyes for Josephine,” Kharjo blurted, earning him a punch in the bicep from the short elf.

      “I’m talking about the atmosphere, not whose pants you plan on getting into.”

      “Ah, right. I’ve never seen a dwarf before, but there are a few around-” Karliah stated.

      “The stables are clean and the mounts.. are impressive and frighteningly tall. Shadowmere seems small compared to half of them, but had the attention all on him,” Brynjolf chuckled.

      “He’s a proud beast, let him have the attention. Divines know he thrives on it. Has anyone been inside the tavern yet?”

      “Not yet, Mal,” Kharjo responded, coming up beside the Dovahkiin.

      “After dinner then, we shall meet up in the Tavern. I may be a bit late, I do have dinner with our host. He has been gracious enough to give me more information of the dragons and the Veil-the green thingy in the sky.”

      “Alright. We shall see you there,” Karliah snickered before leading the others off to each with the inquisitors.

      “Keep an eye on her, Kharjo!” Malefic called after them, grinning as the trio broke out in a small argument. He turned on his heel and made his way to the Throne room. If he was early then he could take in the details and possibly get a feel of the fortress. It seemed to be lively enough. What surprised him was how big the whole thing was and how empty it felt without merchants and kids running around. He was becoming homesick, even after a month on the sea.

      As Malefic turned the corner he was shocked at what he saw. A woman much taller than any woman he’d seen was standing near the throne, pulling off her bow and quiver and letting them fall to the floor.

      “Are Sera and Blackwall back yet?” A deep voice asked.

      “No, but they are due to be back home in two to three days time, Tiedrenne. Do not worry, Blackwall will be fine,” Leliana’s voice rang in the hall.

      “It’s not him I’m worried about. Sera left quickly, and I think she was mad at me,” the taller woman spoke again.

      “Oh. I’m sure she’s alright, then,” Leliana tried, though it was hard to hide her disgust. Clearly whoever this ‘Sera’ person was, she wasn’t liked.

      “Goodnight, Leliana,” Tiedrenne said and turned to leave. “Say hullo to the foreigners for me!” She called, leaving the throne room quickly.

      Assuming that the tall woman was out of earshot, Malefic stepped into the candles’ light. “Madam, may I ask who that was?” He called out, catching the attention of the elf.

      “Tiedrenne. A rogue Qunari. Something I don’t think anyone here would have seen. Is there something I can help you with, Malefic?”

      “No, no, but thank you. In Tamriel, we have many races, but never have I seen someone so tall and with horns. It’s a bit of a culture shock.”

      “Well your companions were quite a shock to us too. Do you mind telling me more of Tamriel?”

      “Not at all. There are ten races in all, each originating from different countries. Karliah is a Dunmer, Kharjo is a Khajit, Brynjolf is a Nord and I am an Imperial. There are Argonians, Altmer and Bosmer, Breton, Orismer, and Redguards. And what of Thedas? Clearly it is not just Humans and Elves,” Malefic was quick with his words, growing anxious for his dinner. He could hear his own stomach rumbling and hoped it wasn’t as loud as it sounded.

      “Humans, Elves, Dwarves and Qunari. Tiedrenne is a Qunari, though she joined the Valo-kas. I’m sure she’d be happy to tell you more,” Leliana said, gracefully moving as she came closer.

      “Leliana, you’re not telling tales of me behind my back, now are you?” Lars asked, walking into the throne in what Malefic assumed was his normal garb. It was awful and plain. Surely they had better clothes for their Inquisitor?

      “No, Brare. I was merely answering a question,” the advisor murmured.

      “I guess there’s no harm in that, then,” the Inquisitor laughed. “Do not be late to your dinner, Leliana. I’m sure Cassandra and Varric are behaving.”

      “Oh! Yes, sorry, Ser. Have a wonderful night,” she nodded her farewell and left the throne room in a hurry.

      “Is it safe to assume that Cassandra and Varric do not get along?” Malefic asked as soon as Leliana was gone.

      “Yes. She despises him, but they are usually decent are people. Usually,” Lars laughed. “I will have a companion with us for this dinner. You are welcome to bring someone if you like.”

      “I suppose I should. I don’t know where my companions have gone, but I’m sure Brynjolf would be more than willing to join us.”

      “I can have an agent go out and find them if you like,” Lars offered, gesturing to the men and women coming and going.

      “If they can find them, they by all means go ahead.”

      “Agent [Dany](http://circlessuck.tumblr.com/post/118633497189/slender-touchmybum-my-inquisitor-being-so-done), I need to ask you of something,” Lars called, turning his attention to a petite blonde elf. The agent turned her head and made her way to the men.

      “Yes, Ser?” Her voice was soft, but her words clear.

      “Could you please find Brynjolf and have him sent up to the rookery?”

      “But Ser, Dorian is up there working on researching the Veil. I don’t advise anyone up there; even Solas has given up the room. Your dinner was moved at last minute Ser. Did no one inform you?” the elf asked, confusion clear on her delicate face. The blue of the vallaslin on her cheeks glinted in the light, making her cheekbones more prominent.

      “No, I wasn’t informed. Thank you, though. Can you tell me where our dinner has been moved to?”

      “In your quarters, Ser.”

      “Wonderful. Thank you, Dany,” Lars nodded. The agent bowed her head and went back to her business, making her way up to the rookery. “I suppose we shall dine in my quarters, then. Follow me.”

       Malefic trailed after, putting his hands behind his back as he started walking after Lars. Although the fortress itself was rather large, the room they walked into felt homey and comfortable. The stairs ascending to it weren’t pleasant, but he couldn’t complain about the architect.

 

       “Lars!” Vivienne gasped as the duo entered late.

       “Yes, Vivienne?” Lars asked, trying to seem innocent.

       “Your hair is a disaster! How could they let you show up like that, let alone greet our guests?” She scolded, moving to stand.

       “Honestly, it is fine. It’ll be fine,” he assured and moved to sit next to her.

       Malefic took this as his cue to sit down, and he did. Brynjolf was already awaiting him with a tankard in hand. He settled down into a high-backed chair and relaxed, watching Vivienne fuss over the Inquisitor. He smacked at her hands lightly till she gave in and looked at the company.

       “I’m glad you come for dinner,” the mage gave a smile while settling a napkin in her lap.

       “Thank you for most graciously inviting us,” Brynjolf replied, unsure of who to address.

       “You’re welcome,” Vivienne gave a soft and approving smile.

       “Where is Araiph? She was supposed to have our food by now,” Vivienne interrupted, seemingly unaware of the conversation she’d cut off.

       “They may just be running behind in the kitchens, do not worry yourself,” Lars tried, putting a hand on Vivienne’s wrist.

       “Ah, there she is. Come, come, Araiph. What have the cooks made for us tonight?”

       “Pheasant breast with rice and gravy. [Faeri](http://makerref.tumblr.com/post/119192442350/cullenfeels-this-is-faeri-my-new-inquisitor) and I grabbed the warmest plates we could, Madam,” the girl bowed sheepishly before placing two plates on the table, her companion following with the last two.

       “Good, good,” Vivienne near squealed. “Faeri, would you be a dear and fetch me the spiced wine?”

       “Vivienne?” Lars frowned, turning to look at her.

       “What? I’m the one who put your stock of it in here. You can spare a bottle,” She waved a hand dismissively as Faeri grabbed the bottle and brought it down, her eyes frantically moving to find something -anything- to like at other than them.

       “Faeri, it’ll be alright. come on, just take the lids off their food and I’ll pour the drink, tah?” Araiph asked, coming close so she could whisper with the elf. After seeing the confirmation, the two traded tasks and set about the dinner table, bustling in quick movements.

       “Send my thanks to the cook, please?” Brynjolf asked as the servants left, and they both nodded. “Shy little things, huh?”

       “Faeri, yes. She’s always been a bit timid but the two work together quite nicely,” Vivienne assured.

      “Dig in,” Lars suggested.

       The dinner went smoothly, each person too engrossed in their food to chat. Lars and Vivienne ate in small bites while Brynjolf and Malefic where slow, enjoying the feel of a warm meal on their tongues.

       “I don’t think I’ve ever missed warm food so much,” Brynjolf groaned once his plate was empty.

       “Would you like some more?” Vivienne asked sweetly.

       “No, but thank you. I’m quite full.”

       “Alright. And you, Malefic?”

       “I am fine, thank you,” he assured her.

       Brynjolf and Malefic talked idly to one another as their company finished eating. Malefic couldn’t tell if Lars was eating so lightly out of habit or for the sake of manners. He had no doubt that Vivienne would scold him if he ate in larger bites.

       “Oh, no, no, no, no, no! You’ve got to use the accent. Here, like this; ‘If anyone sneaks up on us, I'll smell them coming. Or, I might not. We will see.’” Malefic said, watching as Brynjolf broke out in another fit of laughter. Lars was clutching at his chest, trying to breath in gasps. Vivienne had left quite early, whispering under her breath that they were all immature..

       “How often does he say that?” Lars asked, trying to reign himself in.

       “Far too,” Brynjolf gasped out.

       “Sounds like an interesting life back in Tamriel,” Lars commented absently.

       “It really is. When we return, you should join us. Learn a bit more about us,” Brynjolf joked.

       “Maybe I will,” Lars sighed. “Gentlemen, I think I must call it a night though. It was wonderful to have your company,” Lars stood up and brushed his hands on his napkin before setting it on the table. Malefic and Brynjolf followed suit and put out their hands. Lars shook Brynjolf’s first, noting the strong grip. Malefic’s hand lingered, his hand rough with calluses. Lars caught the other’s eye, receiving a wink before the hand pulled away.

       “I shall see you in the morning, Inquisitor.” With that, Malefic and Brynjolf left Lars alone in his quarters.

-

       Malefic found himself seated in a corner booth, watching over the tavern’s occupants. Brynjolf was seated on the other side, occupied by his drink. Karliah was watching over the tavern, talking to the bartender absently. Kharjo was supposedly in bed, but his companions knew he would be up researching this Veil or Rift or Fade or whatever name could be given by Thedas’ occupants. Even when ‘Iron Bull’ and his Chargers entered, the foreigners went unnoticed.

       Brynjolf and Malefic discussed Skyhold and the smal amount of information they had before the Tavern’s noise became too much. Malefic looked about the Tavern, catching the eye of a brunet all the way across the room. He was quite surprised when the man winked towards his direction. The Dragonborn turned his attention away, assuming the brunet wasn’t aiming it towards him. The two went back to their business and eventually Malefic forgot about the man across the room.

       “Ferelden Beer, please,” Dorian asked the bartender, settling himself towards the end. He glanced back at the corner booth, well aware he was being ignored. He was quickly given a bottle and didn’t hesitate to drink.

       “You should go talk to them,” a soft voice murmured from Dorian’s left. He looked over his shoulder and smiled down at the shorter elf.

       “Talk to who?”

       “The man in the booth you keep watching,” she lied. “He keeps looking back at you too,” Karliah shrugged as if it meant nothing.

       “Really? And what do you suppose I do?” He asked.

       “Flirt with him. I’m sure he’d go for a round or two. Let’s make a bet.”

       “Alright.”

      “I say you can’t get him into bed for the night.”

      “Are you sure you want to make this a bet?” Dorian teased, arms crossing over his chest.

      “Divines, yes!” Karliah exclaimed.

      “Alright, and what are we using as a motive?”

      “If I win, you get to be at my beck and call for three days, no arguments. Cleaning up after me, taking notes for me, et cetera. A secretary of sorts.”

      “And If I win?” Dorian asked, highly intrigued.

      “I can have Malefic craft you a ring that will give you several boosts to help your magic,” Karliah shrugged her shoulders absently.

       “Alright, the best is on.” The two shook their hands in agreement. Dorian would show her just how persuasive he could be.

      “Make me proud, mage!”

      Dorian laughed softly before pushing himself off the bar and abandoning his fresh drink. He sauntered over to the far booth in the corner, taking in the occupants. Two men, but his prize was the one who was supposedly ‘eying him’ since he turned his back away. Clearly the man was too engrossed in his conversation to even notice the ‘Vint’s arrival.. Dorian only saw it as a challenge.

       Dorian reached the table and looked down at the two before opening his mouth, ensuring he had their attention. “I wasn’t aware the tavern fetched such handsome patrons,” he smirked, catching the strangers’ eye once again. In return the other only raised his brow and Dorian gently pushed him back against the booth. Easily he slipped into the man’s lap, one hand cupping the back of the other’s neck and the other on the straps of his armor.

       “And here I thought the tavern was a bore,” Malefic chuckled, his eyes flicking to Brynjolf who only watched, clearly befuddled at the brunet’s blunt flirtation.

       “Oh? I’d be happy to change that,” Dorian smirked, his eyes moving from the other’s, down to his lips and back up in a tantalizingly slow pace. With the pressure of a firm hand moving to his back, Dorian’s lip quirked up in a smile. He leaned forward, moustache brushing gently against the man’s ear. “We could always go back to the quarters for a little fun.”

       “And if I said ‘later’?”

       “Then I’d beg on my knees for you, now. If you want some fun, I’ll be in the courtyard,” Dorian kissed the shell of the stranger’s ear and blew gently on it before standing up and leaving the booth with a sway of his hips.

       “Who the hell was that?” Brynjolf questioned, watching the mage leave with a sway to his hips. “Cocky bastard, what he say?”

       “That doesn’t concern you, not tonight anyways. I’ll see you in the morning,” Malefic stood up and nodded to his companion before following after this intriguing stranger.

       The cool air of the mountaintop fortress sent a shiver down Malefic’s body, even through his armor. “And here I was, wondering if you’d actually join me,” a familiar voice rang out in the empty air.

       “How could I resist such a tempting offer, hmm?”

       “My thoughts exactly. Come on, my quarters are close,” Dorian held out his hand and the Dragonborn took it, following the mage. They headed down a quiet stretch of hall where doors adorned each side. Eventually the ‘Vint opened a door and dragged the other inside and shut it behind them.

       Hands were quickly grasping at armor and clothes, trying to peel them off hastily as lips and teeth clashed. Malefic pinned Dorian against the door, his knee between the other’s legs.

       “Name, I want a name,” Dorian moaned, tilting his head up as the other bit and kissed at his bare throat.

       “Damien,” the other grunted, his hands undoing each button and bit of tied fabric on the mage’s clothing.

       “Dorian,” the mage sighed, pulling off his clothing once they were loose. He pushed against Damien’s chest, deftly working on the crossing ties of his armor. “Off, all of it, off.” The mage stepped back and let the other take care of his armor while fetching oil from a drawer.

       “Are you always this demanding?” Malefic teased, tossing the ebony mail to the side and kicking off his shoes.

       “Only when I want to be,” Dorian smirked and set the oil down to remove his own clothing. With his trousers off and only his underwear on, the mage felt strong hands grip at his hips and a firm, warm body press up against his back. “Happy to see me?” He teased, grinding back against the other’s erection. A strangled moan cut the silence and Dorian only laughed.

       “You could say that,” Damien murmured against the other’s ear, one hand sliding into the fabric of Dorian’s pants,  running callused fingers over the length of his cock. The ‘Vint moaned eagerly and braced a knee against the bed. He bent down, using the angle to give more friction to Damien.

       Damien was enjoying the small game of teasing each other, eliciting moans from one another. Eventually the two found themselves in the middle of the bed, naked and panting eagerly. “On all fours,” he ordered and only smirked when the mage complied. Reaching to the stand, he grabbed the oil and poured a small amount in his hand. It was scentless thank the Divines, but went a long ways as he rubbed it between his hands and over his fingers. He leaned forward and kissed down Dorian’s spine, slickening his fingers.

       “M-more,” Dorian groaned, and his wish was complied with the feeling of a wet, rough, and thick finger pressing against his hole. A slight whimper escaped him and a soothing hand ran down his back. When pressure was put between his shoulder blades he let his arms rest. Soon the feeling of the digit pressing further into him made him squirm, but the digit quickly began moving. The oil did wonders to prevent burning, and the mage rocked his hips back in demand for more.

       Slowly another finger was added and then another, scissoring to stretch the mage out more. Dorian’s hips stopped and Damien took it as a sign that he was ready. Pouring a bit more of the oil onto his hands, Malefic ran his hand over his cock and lined himself up to Dorian.

       “Ready?” He asked, though he knew the answer. A frantic nod from the man below him made his head swim, so he pushed slowly into the other. The heat was intense and the slickness of the oil nly made it better.

       “Divines.” “Maker.”

       Dorian took only a moment to adjust before he was pushing back and rolling his hips again, gasping at different angles. Damien kept his hands on Dorian’s hips, anchoring himself as he thrust slow and shallow. Little gasps of ‘more’ and ‘please’ from the mage only spurred him on, his thrusts increasing.

       “Dorian,” Damien moaned, his nails digging in to the mage’s skin, leaving crescent markings.

****  
  


-

****  
  


       No matter how hard he tried, Lars could not relax himself enough to sleep. A wank was what he needed, but he was too anxious about how Malefic was reacting to Skyhold. In two days time they’d start their journey when Sera and Blackwall were back. For the moment he needed the company of someone who sit there and watch him fidget and tell him how to fix it. Dorian. Though the mage seemed to be attracted to trouble, he was a great source of relief for the inquisitor in more ways than one. Sex was the last thing on Lars' mind as he nsfw his way to Dorian's quarters. What he didn't expect was to hear the man's muffled moans.

       "Damien! Oh fuck, fuck! More, more Damien. Nnngh!" Dorian's voice called out, resulting in the harsh sound of skin against skin with each thrust 'Damien' gave. Hell if the mage's voice didn't affect him. His cock twitched in interest as the rooms occupants continued.

       Lars could imagine Dorian with his legs wrapped around this Damien's waist, nails digging into the man's back as he was fucked. Red marks vertically scaled against Damien's back from Dorian, a few more raw than others.

       "Damien I'm gunna, I'm gunna," Dorian panted, fisting the sheets between his hands as Damien's cock hit his prostate with each thrust, sending him closer and closer to his orgasm.

       The Dragonborn was closer to his own release, grunting and panting as exhaustion and adrenaline filled him. "Dorian!"

        Was that Malefic's voice? Fuck that only made Lars hotter. He stooped down, pretending to tie his boots as he listened and ignored his own aching member. Soon Dorian's shout rang in Lars' ear and then it was silent. The inquisitor gave it a moment before he stood up to leave. He lightly adjusted himself through his trousers and then turned to leave and hope that no one would catch him.

       Finally in his room, Lars was able to relax. With his door shut, his hand moved to his aching cock and he groped himself through the thin fabric. He made quick work of his clothes, before settling himself in the middle of his bed. His fingers deftly traced along his cock, but all he could do was imagine it was Dorian's hand instead.

 

      The things he'd do to Dorian if he were there.

 


	3. You're Remarkable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lars does his best to introduce Malefic and his company,  
> but it seems there are a few familiar faces amongst them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter went a little haywire, and I apologize profusely.

          The mornings were hard to enjoy when walking or even moving made your whole body ache. It wasn’t a dull cramping or a sickly pain, but it made itself quite obvious with each movement Dorian made. A flood of memories hit the mage and he bit down on his lip to suppress a soft moan. He looked around, frowning when he no longer saw Damien, but was surprised with a letter awaiting for him on the table in the corner.  
          Each step left him in more pain, and he knows he’s limping. Damn Damien for fucking him so roughly. But Maker he wants so much more, and has far too many ideas for that man. When he picks up the small note, a smirk only comes to his lips, his expression otherwise unmoving. The words are hard to read, but he catches “pleasant night” and “again soon” out of the scrawl.  
          “Soon,” Dorian repeated before accepting that he still had to get ready and placed the note back down.

 

          “Oi! Watch it, ya mutt!” Karliah growled back at the summoned mutts. After a year of conjuring them, Malefic had named them Mutt and Mertle. Karliah still hated them both.  
          “Come on, Mertle, leave her alone,” Malefic said calmly as the flaming beast whined and padded back to his creator. Mutt followed after and the two trailed behind the group in peace.  
          “So how was last night?” Brynjolf prodded, his gaze flickering to Karliah momentarily.  
          “What do you mean?” Malefic asked, oblivious to Brynjolf’s intentions.  
          “With that mage who all-of-a-sudden whisks you out of the tavern and off into the night?”  
          “Oh,” Malefic’s face becomes red from under his hood and mask, though Karliah is already breaking out in a fit of laughter. Brynjolf tosses her a small bag of coins and the elf takes it.  
          “We should make a board to see how many times each of us gets laid in our visit,” Karliah prodded, glancing at Malefic.  
          “Why on bloody Tamriel would we do that?”  
          “Do what?” Kharjo asked, yawning as he jogged behind to catch up.  
          “Prove to Malefic I’m better at seduction,” the elf insisted.  
          “Shit,” Kharjo groaned and Brynjolf patted the Khajiit’s back in support.  
          “We’ll put it up in the main hall, and if anyone asks, we’ll say we don’t know where it came from.”  
          “Karliah, you are the worst influence ever.”  
          “I try!”  
          “Yes, and I’m going to beat you this time like I did in Sun’s Height,” bantered Malefic.  
          “Woof!” Mertle jumped up a bit in her creator’s excitement, whining and wagging her tail.

 

          “Long night?” Lar’s voice called out into the hall as he watch Dorian hobble his way down the stairs. The mage skid to a stop and looked around before finding the owner of the voice.  
          “Damnit, Brare, you can’t just sneak up on a man like that! My night was rather enjoyable, thank you very much.”  
          “Obviously.”  
          “Go suck a dick or something,” Dorian huffed as he continued on, trying to hide the obvious limp.  
          “Why leave when you’re right here?” Lars questioned, following after the mage and grasping onto his arm. The mage gave little restraint and let the Inquisitor lead him off into a storage room and lock the door behind them.  
          "You're always teasing, so how do I know you're not just playing?" Dorian asked, a smirk settling on his lips.  
          "Would I be getting on my knees if I was 'just teasing' you?" Lars asked, pushing Dorian back against a stack of crates and moving to rest on his knees.  
          "Yes," the mage laughed, a hand settling in Lars' fiery hair.  
          "Then you are clearly mistaken,” the redhead teased before lifting up the fabric on Dorian’s coat, tucking it in the other’s belt to keep it out of his way. The mage adjusted his weight against the crates, spreading his legs a bit as Lars moved to work on his trousers.  
          Lars’ deft fingers made quick work of the ties on Dorian’s trousers, brushing lightly over the other’s cock. He tugged down at the fabric, exposing more skin. He pulled himself taller, kissing at the bare skin of Dorian’s thigh, his blunt nails scratching gently.  
          The mage moaned quietly, feeling his dick twitch in anticipation. He pulled Lars’ head back a bit, kissing his teeth. “That’s still teasing,” Dorian murmured idly, chuckling when the other merely rolled his eyes.  
          “Then stop whining and I’ll get to the good bit,” Lars replied, keening as his hair was tugged at again. Finally Dorian let go and Lars leaned forward, starting again on the other thigh. His lips ghosted over the skin, his nails still scraping and indenting over the flesh. He ignored Dorian’s slight huffs in protest and soft whimpers whenever he came close to the other’s prick, wanting to draw it out as long as possible.  
          “Lars,” Dorian panted, sounding almost desperate for release. Almost.  
          “Yes?” The inquisitor asked, his thin fingers wrapping around the base of the other’s cock as he continued to caress his skin.  
          “Good, good,” the mage gasped out, becoming putty in Lars’ hand.  
          The redhead cupped the back of Dorian’s right thigh and pulled the leg over his shoulders, surprised by the other’s willingness. He took it as a good sign and moved his full attention to the dick in his hand. Tentatively he stuck out his tongue, circling the head of the mage’s cock and earning him a low moan. Dorian pulled him closer with his heel, tilting his head back.  
          Lars only adjusted himself before moving his hand away and mouthing heavily over Dorian’s cock. Briefly the redhead’s bright blue eyes flickered up, watching the mage unravel from his tongue alone. Giving in to Dorian’s quiet little pleads, Lars’ attention was brought directly the head of the other’s dick, licking over the slit.  
Dorian tilted his hips forward more, his fingers running through Lars’ hair as he moaned again. The wet heat of the other’s mouth only brought him closer to the edge, never mind the soft and almost inaudible noises coming from the inquisitor.

 

          “Their dragon problem may be harder to take care of than we thought,” Kharjo said, gesturing blandly to the air around them.  
          “How does that have anything to do with our talk?” Karliah commented, raising a brow beneath her hood and mask.  
          “Nothing, but I’d rather be off of the topic,” the Khajiit countered.  
          “Alright, fine. So what’s so difficult about this dragon problem?” Malefic asked, turning his attention to the Khajiit.  
          “They may not be able to be controlled by your Thu’um. We are in a different country, and the creatures here are much different than ours.”  
          “True. If you can still call Odahviing, it may take him time to reach us. Is that a risk we can take?” Brynjolf questioned, trying to let their group mull over everything.  
          “We took this job and agreed to help them. We’re going to do just that, even if it means we can’t use past methods. We agreed to this-” Malefic’s attention was draw away at the sound of a door creaking open. The Dragonborn pushed his companions back around the corner, peeking around to watch as two figures piled out of the room.

          “Ugh, do I have to go to this meeting?” Dorian’s voice echoed in the hall.  
          “Yes, you’re coming with us on the next mission. Your knowledge of the Fade Rifts will help us,” Lars replied.  
          “Mmhm, maybe that’s why. Or maybe you’ll just miss me too much,” Dorian’s chuckle bounced against the walls. A loud thud followed after and a soft giggle thereafter.  
          “Dorian,” Lars groaned, a soft whine escaping his lips.  
          “Yes, Inquisitor?”  
          “We need to go.”  
          “Must we?”  
          “Yes. Let me go and we can head to the main hall. Just behave for today,” Lars pushed Dorian off of him and their footsteps echoed down the hall until the foreigners were left in silence.

          “Why the hell did we wait for that?!” Karliah groaned in annoyance.  
          “Because interrupting would have been awkward and rude,” Brynjolf spoke for Malefic. The Dragonborn looked pale under the mask and hood, hazel eyes looking into the hall’s dim space.  
          “Can we go?” Kharjo interrupted, nudging at the others. Murmuring and groans came from everyone before the moved back into the hallway. Kharjo and Karliah lead the way as Malefic talked with Brynjolf.  
          “Are you going to tell me why you panicked?” Brynjolf whispered.  
          “It’s nothing,” Malefic shrugged.

 

          Lars’ had put his head in his hands, sighing as the foreigners entered the throne room. Malefic watched as Josephine fussed over the Inquisitor, before calling out to the Inquisitor. Attention from everyone moved to them and Lars visually pulled himself together.  
          “Thank you for coming to meet us again. We’ve set up for our first mission tomorrow, we’ll be traveling to the Hinterlands. A dragon was spotted -a Ferelden Frostback- terrorizing anyone going through the underpass. There are several Rifts along the way, but our main focus will be on the dragon.”  
          “Alright. We’re up to the challenge of dragons and whatever you may throw our way,” Brynjolf replied.  
          “We are dealing with some minor problems, but we shall be leaving before the sun rises tomorrow.” Lars said apologetically.  
          “I recommend going to bed early enough that you will not be tired on your ride tomorrow. It’s quite the trip from here to the Hinterlands,” Josephine piped in.  
          “If you’d like to stay around for a bit and wait for the rest of our companions to join, you may do so,” Cullen added before the hosts cut themselves off from the foreigners entirely to discuss their current ‘situation’.  
          The foreigners nodded and moved to sit alone the hall’s wall, idle as they waited. Malefic snapped his fingers, conjuring up Mutt and Mertle back into his presence. The two yipped and barked, distracting the group that had crowded towards the throne. Mutt stepped onto Malefic, licking at his hood and nipping at it curiosly, tugging ever so gently.  
          Mertle had a mind of her own and ran off to the front of the room, flames licking at the air. She made her way up to the throne, pawing gently at the Inquisitor’s pants. The redhead stared down at the beast at his feet, wondering how the flames weren’t burning him, how he didn’t feel any heat. He reached his hand out and the flaming beast nudged it’s head into it.  
          “Woah,” Lars murmured to himself. The whole room seemed to silence itself as they watched the beast rub against the Inquisitor. Everyone jerked as the beast jumped up into the Inquisitor’s lap, trying to roll onto it’s back.  
          “Meyz. Nu.” Malefic’s deep voice rang through the hall, calling the beast’s attention. Mutt whined and watched as his sibling mirrored his actions. Mertle eventually jumped off and walked back, tail between her legs. The dogs stood at Malefic’s feet, trying to seem innocent.  
          “You- did you summon those?” Solas called out, breaking the silence. Malefic’s eyes moved to the elf and nodded slowly. “How? Where did you learn this?”  
          “College of Winterhold, back in Skyrim. A simple casting. They are merely companions.” Brynjolf replied instead.  
          “Fascinating.”  
          “Then you may enjoy Urag’s company,” Karliah scoffed before Kharjo punched her in the arm to silence her.  
          “When you spoke, your beast came back. What did you say? It was.. odd, new,” Leliana added.  
          “It is Dovahzul. I studied it alongside the Greybeards and Blades for years. I merely commanded her to return to me,” Malefic replied, watched the elf cautiously. He could see many members of the Inquisition had given up on listening in already, returning to their previous tasks.  
“Beyond being able to devour the dragon’s soul for eternity, what can you do?” Solas asked, uncaring of how rude he sounded.  
          “Many things. In all my years in Skyrim, I’ve witnessed far too much. Nearly murdered for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was taught in the Mages’ college and Bards college. I am the archmage’s apprentice, leader and Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, and a Nightingale. Surely something amongst that can help?” Malefic chuckled as the elf’s eyes widened.  
          “And just how old are you?” Solas asked, stepping forward to take in the Dragonborn.  
          “Twenty-seven years come the fourth of Mid Year.”  
          “Brilliant!”  
          “Solas, leave the poor man alone, he’s not some Fade Rift you can experiment with,” Dorian said, pulling both men from their stupor.  
          “Apologies, Ser. You are merely fascinating to me,” Solas mused before dipping his head and stepping back.

          “Have you already forgotten about me?” Sera’s voice echoed through the hall as the door opened, allowing more people to enter.  
          “Never, Sera,” Lars chuckled. He watched as Iron Bull and Blackwall followed after her, Cassandra and Cole bringing up the end. The door closed behind them and Lars stood from his throne. He nodded his welcome to his companions before addressing their guests.  
          “These are the foreigners, and our guests. They have graciously agreed to help us,” Josephine moved to the center of the hall, taking the attention of everyone.  
Malefic’s companions stood up and moved to his side, feeling every pair of eyes land on them. Mutt and Mertle sat on either side of the Dragonborn’s legs, framing him against his friends.  
          “Karliah and Brynjolf, Kharjo, and Malefic will be with us for as long as we can keep their company. I expect you all to be humane,” Josephine huffed at the last bit as she stepped away. A smile crept to her lips and she joined Leliana and Cullen once again.  
          “Uh, thank you, Josie. Enlightening as ever. Sera, Blackwall, you are free to go to yourselves for the night. I wouldn’t want to put you out on another mission so soon,” Lars said, walking towards the group. The two parted from the group, heading in separate directions.  
          “Brare, please just choose who you’re taking. Some of us have places to be,” Leliana groaned, tapping her fingers against her arm.  
          “Alright, alright! Cassandra, Dorian, and Iron Bull. I expect to see you all prepared to leave before dawn,” Lars nodded before sighing and turning to chat with his advisors.

          “Why must I always get stuck with you two?” Cassandra muttered as most filed out. Kharjo and Malefic stayed behind and watched as the Inquisitor’s companions chatted amongst themselves.  
          “Because I’m good company-” Dorian started.  
          “And I’m very good with my sword,” Iron Bull finished. Cassandra sneered at the two.

          “Bo, grind,” Malefic murmured to his beasts, gesturing to the bickering trio. The duo took their cue and marched over to the new people, sniffing at their feet before being noticed.  
          “Ah! Oh, well,” Dorian stepped back a bit in surprise, before relaxing his features. He crouched down as Cassandra and Iron Bull traded uneasy glances before following Dorian’s example and crouching to examine and pet the beasts.  
          “What are they?” Cassandra asked, looking to Dorian.  
          “They’re wolves. Conjured, though they are quite loyal. Mutt and Mertle. I had to tweak with the book’s writing to make them permanent beings,” Malefic said. Mertle padded up to her creator and yipped, jumping up onto his chest and biting at his mask. The man laughed and pulled his head back, holding on to the wolf’s shoulders to keep her from jumping.  
          “They seem.. docile for wolves,” Cassandra murmured.  
“They are when it is requested of them. Let one of them fight with a Dremora Lord..” Kharjo chuckled to himself.  
          “Tum, Mertle,Tum,” Malefic chuckled, losing his mask in the wolf’s jaws as she jumped down. “Oi! give that back!” The Dragonborn moved to his knees to try and take it back. Cassandra, Dorian, and Iron Bull pulled their attention to the dog holding the man’s mask out of his reach.  
          “Mutt, mindin!” Malefic pointed at the flameless beast and then moved his finger to the wolf’s sister. Mutt removed himself from the strangers to chase after his sister, running around the throne room.  
          As Malefic and the others watched, Dorian’s attention moved to take in the Dragonborn’s feature. The mage’s mouth went dry as he stood up and murmured his goodnight. He watched the others out of the corner of his eye as he left.

 

          “So about that chart?” Karliah asked casually, sitting with her feet propped up on the table in Damien’s quarters.  
          “It’s already up. I’ve got one mark down already. Brynjolf? Kharjo?” Damien watched as the two moved about his room.  
          “No,” they said simultaneously.  
          “I’m thinking about trying to get into the Iron Bull’s pants. Now that would be an adventure,” Karliah snickered.  
          “Yes, yes very mature of you,” Brynjolf commented.  
          “Go to bed, we have to be up. Out, out,” Damien sighed and stood up, pushing Karliah’s feet off his table.  
          “Alright, grumpy pants, have it your way,” Karliah giggled before taking her leave. Brynjolf and Kharjo left soon after, leaving the Dragonborn on his own.


	4. A Really Long Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group sets out on their journey, finding shelter in an empty cave system, and then taking refugee in a cleared bandit camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to cut off the porn again on you guys, but I'm still working on my skills.   
> Just think of it as a teaser for the actual thing.
> 
> please check out makerref on tumblr, a blog with references and updates  
>  on this fic. it's unnecessary but i do plan on getting this fic to 20(+)   
> chapters before i'm through with it.

The smell of fresh hay filled the Inquisitor's nose as he stepped into Skyhold's stables. His horse whinnied when he entered, stomping a hoof. Lars smiled and walked down the aisle, his hand touching the Orlesian Courser’s muzzle as he passed. Only one other person was in the stables, brushing out the mounts’ thick coats and shining scales. 

“Good morning, Inquisitor,” the servant called out, her soft features illuminated by the light of the stable’s many torches.

“Good morning,” Lars replied, nodding to her. “Has anyone else come down to attend to the mounts?”

“Not yet, Ser. The Dovahkiin was around here earlier dropped off something purple-ish. Said it needed to stay here. Put it in an empty stall and such.”

“Ah, well thank you.”

“Yes, Ser.”

With that, Lars fetched a brush and his tack. He suspected he had an hour to groom each mount before everyone else began piling in. It was only three in the morning yet, he was surprised to even hear of Malefic coming in before him.

          Time passed quickly for Lars. He was occupied with grooming one of the foreign horses, brushing down their black coat. He was thorough, being sure to brush the stallion's legs and remove the knots from his mane. Not once did he bob his head or remain stubborn against Lars' pushes. He was well-invested into the creature until someone coughed awkwardly from behind him.

           "Ah, Malefic," Lars gave a half-hearted smile to the foreigner and went back to grooming the horse's mane.

           "Good morning to you as well," Malefic greeted, petting Shadowmere's nose. "I'm surprised he's taken a liking to you. He's very... touchy."

           "Oh? He seemed quite calm when I came to him, which surprised me considering the ride from the Seas to here," Lars hummed, finally satisfied with the horse's mane. "Brigette can be quite antsy after a longer ride, but I guess each horse is different."

         "'Brigette?' Is that your horse?"

         "Yes. Third stall in on the left," Lars nodded to the stall as he unhooked Shadowmere from the cross ties and leading him back to his stall by his halter.

         Malefic stepped back to find Lars' horse, and wasn't disappointed by the beauty of it.  He reached a hand out to it and only chuckled when the creature instead tried to smell his palm.

         "Spoil your horse much?" The foreigner teased.

         "Between me and Cole, every one of them is spoiled rotten and pampered like royalty."

         "Wish I could say the same for mine. They're usually watched over by stable hands and aren't allowed in the Holds," Malefic mused.

         "As long as they're here, they'll be treated the same as we treat ours," Lars promised.

         "Sure, sure. Do you always come down to groom the horses for everyone?"

         "Only on missions. Usually everyone is too busy or too focused on something else to properly take care of them. They're lucky I remember to ask the blacksmith for more shoes."

         "Then they're definitely lucky to have you around, Lars."

         "I don't know where I'd be without them, though," Lars chuckled, shutting Shadowmere's stall door behind him. The creature snorted and turned around to search out more attention.

         "A man is as good as his company," Malefic said smoothly, watching add the Inquisitor blushed in the dark.

         "Uh, thank you. Now, if you don't mind, I'd appreciate some help in saddling Brigette up," Lars called down the aisle as he walked away to grab the tack.

         "Of course," the foreigner offered and followed. 

         He found Lars reaching up to grab a particularly high saddle and went to help him. The other took the help and stepped aside, his ears burning. From the side he could take in the other's tall, bulky figure and actually allow himself to appreciate the form.

         "Inquisitor?" Malefic asked.

         "Oh! Sorry," Lars grabbed the bridle and lead the way back to his horse and opened the stall door, pushing Brigette to this side so he could pass her and get in.

         "Trade?" Malefic offered, seeing as there was limited room in the stall.

         "I was about to suggest it, thank you," Lars smiled and placed the bridle of Brigette's shoulders and took the saddle. The two managed to finish without being stepped on or crushed, but tightening the girth had brought Malefic into the stall with him.

         "I see what you mean by antsy," Malefic sighed with a laugh, patting the horse's neck.

         "She's not even at her worst," Lars laughed and leaned against the wall. Malefic followed suit and the two watched undetected as people flooded in. 

         Something clanged outside of the stall, shaking the Inquisitor from his peace. Malefic watched and stood taller, taking his chances abs placing two fingers under Lars' chin. With the attention of the other caught, he turned Lars' head towards him and kissed him.

         The Dovahkiin left with a smirk and set about taking care of his own horse, greeting Karliah with the same smirk.

         Lars lead Brigette out of the barn once he knew everyone had their horse tacked and packed, prepared for their journey. He could hear the iron gates opening with painfully loud clicks, wincing at the sound.

         Leading the way to the first date, he stopped and waited for each horse and rider to adjust and put themselves in position. Brynjolf followed directly behind him, then Dorian and Cassandra. Malefic rode to his side, Karliah, Bull, and Kharjo following him. 

Ensuring that his companions were steady, he brought his horse forward a bit and turned her to face the Inquisition, mages, warriors, and rogues alike gathering around them to hear what he had to say before he left. A promise, something to bring back home even if it was only a three day mission. It brightened the hopes and spirits of the Inquisition. 

“Today, we ride!” He called out, earning a small hoot and a random holler from the crowd. The foreigners sat back, hiding their confusion. “We may be gone for weeks, months at least. But we will be triumphant. Each day means we are closer to bringing back victory. Each day means we hold more power and have a highger chance at winning this war and bringing Thedas peace again!” 

The spirits of Skyhold’s people seemed to rise at every word, people cheering and jeering the Inquisitor on more as he yelled out to them. They seemed to lose it as the Inquisitor continued, raising his staff up, riling up the horses and his fellow riders. Lars gave one more yell before leading Brigette again and kicking her sides to get her going.

The others followed after, galloping down Skyhold’s bridge and out the gates. The ricketing sound of them shutting behind him gave Lars relief as they rode on. When they slowed down enough, the man placed his staff behind him again and they continued down the mountain’s engraved path. The sun wasn’t shining, leaving the group in near darkness as they traveled, shivering at the shade of the night.

As each odd rock or broken part of the path comes their way, the foreigners seems to make ease as they ride, despite their horses’ smaller builds. The party remains quiet despite the clicking of trotting hooves against the ground, rock, and water. 

 

“Mm, Dorian, I never remembered to pay up,” Karliah spoke, loosening herself in her saddle and turning to look at the man behind her row.

A smirk fell upon the mage’s lips and he turned his attention to the elf. “And? Are you going to pay up, or just hold that in front of my face?”

“Ask Malefic,” Karliah smirked.

“No, you brought it up, and you said you’d get it for me. Pay up,” Dorian scoffed.

“Play nice or I’ll pull this party over myself,” Bull teased, his Longma screeching in response.

“She started it!” Dorian claimed, glaring at Bull.

“And? What are you going to do about it?” the Bull responded, putting a hand on his hip.

“Children,” Cassandra scoffed, pulling a laugh from Kharjo.

“What’s going on back there?” Malefic called, not bothering to look back.

“Let them be, they’re having fun,” Lars chuckled.

“Can you make Dorian a ring like the one you gave to Vix?” Karliah asked casually, glaring back at Dorian.

“For pickpocketing?” Malefic asked, confusion clear as day in his gruff voice.

“No, no, the other one. The one you gave her on her ‘birthday’.”

“Oh. Yeah, maybe. How many soul gems do we have?” 

“Ask Kharjo, he keeps inventory,” Brynjolf muttered.

“Bring him up here,” Lars said.

 

It only took a minute for the request to finally make it to the back of the group. Kharjo lead his horse up to the front, listening to Malefic and answering his questions. Three grand soul gems, one greater, three full black, and the rest were petty. Twenty-seven soul gems in total. Possibly enough to last them, if they used the gems wisely.

When Kharjo returned to the back, the bickering silenced entirely. The sun rose quickly, finally placing itself low in the sky. The Frostback Mountains were still bitterly chilly as they rode on, making their way as close to Gherlen’s Pass by dusk.

  
  


-

  
  
  


“Hey! Caves, and plenty of them. Dismount and tie your horses, we’re exploring,” Lars said, stopping his horse. Each rider followed suit and obeyed their given orders without question. They tied their horses to surrounded trees and shrubs, moving on to explore. Malefic and Lars moved on to the furthest one while each person continued to look on their own. 

Each cave came up completely empty of spiders, bears, or any show of inhabitation. There was dust everywhere but the caves looked like they were make by debris of old avalanches.

Collecting around the horses, Lars asked a report. The same went for each cave. There were six in total, and splitting up wasn’t a problem. Karliah and Bull agreed to buddy up, but everyone else seemed to feel a bit too sore for it. Lars and Malefic put themselves forward and it was decided. Each lead his mount to their caves for the night, and any shared words were kept short. Everyone was tired or saddle-sore and ready for isolation.

 

“I didn’t think you’d even bother sharing a quarters with someone. You seem like you’d enjoy your privacy,” Malefic mention as he removed his armor, a thin black shirt hiding beneath the shining leather he’d worn.

“No one else was offering up. Besides, it’s a rather large cave, and a rather odd system. I won’t have my companions being, well, grumpy in the morning. Bull’s the worst to deal with if he doesn’t get much sleep in.”

“With Karliah sharing a cave with him?” Malefic scoffed teasingly. 

“Why? What’s so funny about that?” Lars asked in the middle of undoing the sashes on his armor, turning to look at Malefic.

“Did you not hear their conversations? They were practically already in each other’s pants,” Malefic laughed.

“Oh. Yeah, Bull’s like that,” Lars shrugged absently and set back to undressing. He reached behind him to undo a knot, his fingers losing their grip of the fabric.

“Here, let me help,” Malefic laughed softly before coming over to help anyways, shooing away the other’s hands to start working. The knot came undone rather easily and the fabric wasn’t particularly soft. The Dovahkiin set about helping Lars out of his armor and setting it aside. 

“What is Skyrim like?” Lars asked over a small meal of dried ram’s meat, sitting next to Malefic in front of a small conjured up fire. The mage had created it himself, using a flick of his wrist at a pile of dried twigs gathered from just outside the cave. 

Malefic made a disgusted noise and Lars giggled, taking a sip of his one of the foreigner’s alien wine. It tasted well enough, at least. 

“It’s different in each part. Winterhold and Windhelm are freezing cold, always in a constant state of bitter winter. Riften is rainy, and rarely sees the sun. Whiterun is quite nice, when it wants to be. Falkreath is quite similar, but Markarth is a bloody fucking disaster. ‘Safest place in Tamriel’ bullshit and such. Get into their prison once, and you’re there for life. Practically, anyways. I would say that Solitude is my favourite, but ever since the attack, it hasn’t been the same. Basically sums all of Skyrim’s holds up.”

“Oh. I don’t know much of Thedas anymore. Everything just blends into one long mission if I try to remember. Except for these mountains, they’re always the coldest. Storm Coast sends a chill straight to your bones and back, but there’s nothing like these mountains. It’s not all that bad, I suppose,” Lars spoke, his speech slightl slurred. He leaned against Malefic, his eyes stayed on the fire, his attention focusing solely on the flames.

“Are you drunk, Inquisitor?” 

“No, not really. I just stop caring about how I speak,” Lars shrugged. “Lisp and all.” 

“I understand,” Malefic nodded, kissing the top of Lars’ head and wrapped an arm tentitively around the other’s back.

“You’re not just going to keep teasing me, are you?” Lars asked half an hour later, Malefic’s hand resting inside the hem of his pants, thumbing his hip idly.

“Here I thought I was going rather slowly,” Malefic shrugged, smiling down at the Inquisitor. 

Lars considered it for a moment before pulling away, only to straddle Malefic’s lap. The other put his hands on Lars’ thin waist, holding him down. “Just what do you plan to do about it, hmm?” Malefic challenged, tightening his hold.

Instead of speaking, Lars just rocked his hips back and forth slowly, earning him a moan from Malefic’s lips. The mage leaned down, kissing the other’s lips needily, and nipping at the sensitive flesh. He was met with the same desire, teeth and lips quickly adding tongue. 

The redhead moved his hips more ferverously, whimpering and whining in Malefic’s lap as the other took over. “M-more, I need more,” Lars whimpered into Malefic’s ear, resting his forehead against the other’s shoulder. “Please.”

“Anything,” the Dovahkiin chuckled and tugged Lar’s pants halfway down his thighs, exposing his cock to the chilly air of the cave. The rush of cold air to the bare flesh made the redhead hiss, a hand moving to work on his cock. 

“Up, up,” Malefic murmured against Lars’ neck and the smaller nodded and got off, resting down on his own bedding, fingers working over his length. He watched as the tight fabric on the Dovahkiin framed his cock and the sight of it made the Inquisitor swallow.

Malefic moved to his pack and searched through it, finding a small bottle and pouring a copious amount of the contents onto his hand. He removed his pants with on hand, the other working on his cock. He walked back, running his up and down the length of it, knowing he had the attention of Lars.

“You think you can take it?” Malefic asked casually. He chuckled as the Inquisitor hesitated but shook his head slowly. “Another night, then?” followed by a frantic nod. “Good.”

“Fuck,” Lars groaned to himself.

  
  
  


“We have an hour and then we’re leaving. I don’t want to hear any groaning from any of you,” Lars called out, repeating it over and over again as he yelled up at the caves till something was thrown his way from each of them. A sash from one, a flash of magic from Dorian, and a stray change from another. Finally Brynjolf and Kharjo emerged, dressed and prepared. Lars stopped his fretting and went back to his own cave to pack everything else back up.

 

“It’s going to take two weeks at most to reach Redcliffe on time. Minusing the bandit raids here and there.  We’ll end up taking care of most of them like we do on every party,” Lars groaned, rubbing his face as he walked outside, Malefic following with the horses. 

“Two weeks doesn’t sound that bad,” Malefic murmured.

“It’ll be raining for half of the time, I promise you. Just ask Dorian.”

“I’ll be sure to bring it up, sometime.”

  
  


-

 

“Brynjolf, take Shadowmere for me? I’d like to ride Arvak for a bit,” Malefic mentioned, ten minutes before they would be sent to leave. The other man nodded and they traded equipment, and Arvak’s skull was handed over. 

          “Thanks,” Malefic nodded and hurried to conjure the beast and gear him up. 

Putting his foot into one of Arvak’s ribs, he pulled himself up and settled against the bear pelt on the horse’s back. Each member of their party mounted up and took their position up again. No one brought the change of horses up and the group began their trek to Gheren’s Pass in a comfortable silence.

  
  


-

  
  


         "You said your horse was from the Soul Cairn. It sounds.. dreary," Lars mentioned once the morning drizzle had ceased. He, Kharjo, and Dorian held torches as they rose on the clouds hanging ominously above them. 

         "He is. It wasn't fun out there, constantly being chased by bonemen and other rather unmentionable creatures. All to free a woman who held no liking for me. Serana should be grateful."

         "Oh. It just sounds like a lonely trip, is all." Lars shrugged and shifted in his saddle.

         "It was. But I gained the help of someone and then this lonely soul just asked me to take care of Arvak. Kept saying he was a 'good boy, such a good boy.'"

         "He seems like a good mount," the Inquisitor murmured.

         "Mm."

  
  


-

  
  


         Coming over their final hill, Lars held up a clenched fist, stopping the group on their tracks. He looked to Malefic, worrying over the bandit raid. "We need an archer," Lars murmured, biting his lip. As far as he aware, they had no bows on them.

         Malefic turned his horse around and moved beside Brynjolf. "Do you have the arrows?" Malefic asked.

         "Yes."

         "I need the blessed ones and the Daedric ones. Karliah, I need Lady," Malefic ordered. He was given the weapons and nodded his thanks before turning Arvak back to the front. 

         Taking a breath, the Dovahkiin raised his bow and picked one of blessed arrows. He could feel Akatosh's power through them, running through his fingers as he placed it on the string.

         "Just tell me where to shoot," Malefic murmured, knowing he had nearly everyone's eyes on him. 

         "The barrels in the center. Any of them; they'll set off a chain reaction."

         Malefic pulled the string back, moving his horse with slight squeezes of his thighs. Arvak snorted as the Dovahkiin narrowed his sight, tensing up his body. He counted down the seconds he had before letting go of the arrow. As soon as it made contact, the barrels exploded. He could feel the rush as each person either dismounted and rode into the small battle before them. 

 

The Foreigner dismounted and kept his bow, striding into the battle. His bow was strung over his back, the heat of the enchanted flames warming his skin. Reaching out, Malefic grabbed onto a bandit’s shield and jerked it back, shoving a Daedric arrow into the other’s throat. The body crumbled to the ground instantly and the arrow was retrieved. Taking a moment to look around him, he saw each person aiding the small cause. 

“Brare! I’m too pretty to die!” A familiar rang in Malefic’s ear and he turned in time to see Dorian running towards him, his staff left far behind him and a bandit running after him. Dropping the retrieved arrow, he let his magic course through him. He cast conjure Dremora Lord in one hand, pushing all of his magicka towards the empty hand.

“Malefic!” A voice called out in the distance, the last thing the Dovahkiin heard before blacking out.

  
  


-

  
  
  


“Fetch Lars! He’s waking up. Go!” Karliah yelled, causing the Dragonborn to groan in return.

“Inside voice,” he murmured, sitting up slowly. He tasted blood and his head was pounding unbearably, but otherwise felt unscathed. His magicka was full, leaving his body coursing with new energy, a comfort to him.

“You big baby,” Karliah huffed before standing and leaving the tent. Tent? Since when had he been moved into a tent, what tent-

“It’s good to see you’re still alive. Can’t be losing our closest hope after two days, now can we?” Lars said, letting the flap of the tent fall behind him. 

“Where are we?” Malefic blurted out, rubbing at his eyes as he tried to ignore the ache.

“The bandit camp where you ever so graciously saved Dorian’s arse for him. He said he felt a great amount of energy from you when you conjured something. And then you just fell, right there, in the middle of fighting.”

“Sounds morbid, when you put it like that.”

“The world isn’t all smiles, you know,” Lars chuckled and offered up a damp cloth. “For your nose; it’s still a little bloody.”   
“Thanks,” Malefic nodded and took the offered cloth, dabbing underneath his nose.

 

“It was a Dremora Lord. The thing I conjured,” Malefic said nonchalantly once the sun was starting to set and the sound of wood being gathered for a fire could be heard outside the tent.

“Oh? I may be a mage, but I’m not as curious as some. If you’re feeling up to it, join us for dinner. Usually when Bull cooks, it’s pretty good. Plus, I’m sure Dorian would be all for learning about your ‘conjuring’ or whatever,” Lars gave the Dovahkiin a short smie before standing and leaving the tent entirely.

  
  


“A what? You can call for a dragon?” Bull’s voice carried over the sound of the crackling fire, awestruck at the news passed on to him.

“Yeah. Two, actually. Odahviing and Durnehviir. I would not call the former all the way to Thedas just to have him return to the Soul Cairn for Divine’s know how long,” Malefic shook his head and bit into the rams stew he was eating.

 

“Come on, what’s a little show ‘n tell gunna hurt?” Karliah giggled after her second bottle of Ferelden Beer, urging Malefic on.

“Are you sure? I mean, he may not even hear it-” Malefic groaned, running a hand down the side of his face.

“Yes!” Karliah and Bull called, equally excited. Kharjo and Brynjolf groaned, while the others watched idly.

 

“OD-AH-VIING!” Malefic shouted, a crackle in the sky following soon after. Silence carried on as they waited, and nothing came. Nothing happened.

“Give him a day or so, Mal. It is a far trip and he is flying,” Kharjo commented, sipping idy at his mead.

“If you say so,” Malefic grumbled, going back to the dying fire. He gave the fire a brief glance before turning and heading towards his tent, ready to call it a night. 

  
  


The night came on fast, and the fire died quickly without the assistance of others. It came down to Iron Bull, Dorian, and Lars at the end of it, watching the embers burn and the moon take over, illuminating Thedas.

“Do you really think a dragon will actually come?” Dorian asked, staring at the bottle of Honningbrew mead handed to him earlier that night.

“I don’t know what to believe, but his companions seems pretty set on the idea, and they acted as if it was nothing,” Bull shrugged, finishing off his third bottle of the night.

“And he just shouted it, with ease. They called it the Thu’um, right?” Dorian asked, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah, Malefic called it the Thu’um. Said it was the voice, or something,” Lars murmured, nodding mostly to himself.

  
  


“You seemed to be real cozy with Malefic pretty quick there, huh?” Bull asked after Lars had called it a night, finding himself a new tent to sleep on his own in. 

“You could say that, yeah,” Dorian chuckled, smiling at the stupid bet he made just to get into the foreigner’s pants. “I didn’t even fucking know who he was at the time! Karliah just made a bet with me and I took it. Remind me to thank her.”

“Thank her? Why for?” Bulll asked, laying on his back and watching the stars move in the sky.

“Because his cock is fucking blessed, that’s why,” Dorian scoffed, causing both men to snort.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one before,” Bull sighed, trying and failing to wipe the smile off his face. 

“But I don’t know if I’m ever going to get anything out of him again, since he’s all buddy-buddy with Lars. I’m not jealous or anything, we just have a friends-with-benefits kind of thing. But still,” Dorian sighed, sitting up and pulling himself straighter, preparing to leave for his own tent.

“Offer up a threesome, when we reach the next tavern. We’ll have the whole place to ourselves anyways, you can bring it up with Lars then. I doubt he’ll object,” Bull said, mulling the idea over. It dind’t sound that bad of a proposal to him at all.

“I’ll think about it, Bull. Goodnight,” Dorian sighed and stood up, flicking his wrist and killing the heat from the embers. The two separated and went to their own tents, letting the sounds of nature fill the air.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a kudos and a comment! Most chapters aren't fully beta'd. Don't forget to check out [makerref](www.makerref.tumblr.com) for references, outlines, chapters, and plot bunnies that may or may not make it into this fic.


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